


What WAS the beginning

by lw531



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lw531/pseuds/lw531
Summary: Months after Max E has told Liz O about what really happened to her sister, a chance meeting sparks a follow-up conversation about her signature in his yearbook. What did Liz mean when she signed, "it's only the beginning"? Max is desperate to find out.*





	1. Months later

**Author's Note:**

> *Written based as canon divergent fan fic starting from the end of "Don't Speak." First posted on FF and now moved here bc I finally gained the courage to establish an AO3 account.

Summary: Now that she’s figured out who killed Rosa, how does Max begin to tell her what they were like before Rosa died? 

 

Max rushed out of the hospital before they could acquire anymore blood from him. After rushing home, and getting stitching supplies, Max finally took the time to process Isobel’s actions and to reconsider Liz’s distant yet conflicted behavior since her return. “How much did Isobel make her forget?”   
He opened a bottle of whiskey to numb the pain. At least alcohol worked for him like it worked for humans. With cotton swabs and needles in front of him, he picked up a needle and thread to begin sewing his wound, taking a swig every time the needle pulled out of his wound. The wound was in the same place Liz was shot, he thought to himself, risking his life yet again for the girl who shared her headphones.   
He thought about that day, the day they drove out to the desert, the last day she shared her headphones, wondering how much more beside that day she remembered. How much of that day did Isobel take away. Looking out the window, remembering the feel of her hand on his face, he had to blink twice to confirm she was out there.   
(CANON SCENE)   
It broke him to hear her say Isobel’s name. His sister. One of two other people like him. Years of sibling solidarity down the drain with the choke in Liz’s voice, demanding that she learn more about what happened the night she lost her sister. That night that all their lives changed.   
He looked at the image she threw down in front of him again, “How far back do you want to go?” He asked.”  
“All of it,” she answered sitting down, wiping the tears from her face. She thought about her sister’s smile, as she sat down and recalled again the night Rosa pushed Max. It was Max’s memory bt it appeared in her head like it was her own.   
(rosa context)   
“We didn’t know what to do with what she saw,” Max began,” so Isobel thought she could rewrite the memory--  
“Rewrite the memory?” Liz asked leaning forward in her chair. She had to keep her hand from touching his.   
He could feel the fear between them, he took a deep breath, lights flickering, to ground himself in the truth he’d been guarding for ten years.   
“Rosa couldn’t be mind warped,” Max said, “not again.”  
“Again?”  
“That’s what Isobel said,” Max continued.”Rosa and Isobel were close...until Isobel got scared about having someone know, so she wiped their memory of their friendship--she didn’t want Rosa to get hurt with what she knew, because of what she’d been through…”  
Liz sighed and sat back, thinking about Rosa’s darkness, the distance that grew between them despite Liz’s best efforts. She never knew what it was and she had to keep herself from crying then, because Max would try to comfort her inciting a struggle between the bones that yearned for him and the gut that was telling her to maintain her distance.   
He wanted to reach his hand out to her, the ways her darting eyes were moving he knew she was processing what Rosa knew and what it cost her.   
“When Rosa pushed me,” he began, “in that memory you saw, it was because I was trying to ask her what was wrong and why she was running,” he continued explaining throwing away the bloody swabs and needles he had on his coffee table. He hoped the distance would give me courage to break the bond of secrecy he and Michael made ten years ago, “I tried following her but couldn’t,” he began, “so I went looking for Michael.”  
“So when Rosa ran away, Isobel followed her because she wanted to go with her,” Liz asked, “then why did she die? How?”  
“I don’t know,” he blurted out remembering the scene at the cave they entered,”when we arrived, Isobel was passed out, we couldn’t wake her up. The handprints....I couldn’t bring her back, Liz,” he wept resting his hands on the kitchen counter, “and Michael said we had to cover it up, so we moved them and made it all look like an accident.”   
“And so Green caught it on tape and Wyatt wanted to keep it a secret--if he knew what happened, why didn’t he come forward about it?”  
“Wyatt knew?” Max asked looking up.   
“When he shot Green, Wyatt talked about how he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” Liz explained reviewing the events of earlier that afternoon, “He beat my dad, vandalized the Crashdown, but he knew--”  
“Liz,” Max began, “he knew what?”  
“About the mur--the video--you?” Liz blurted out.  
“The video?”  
“The video of you and Michael carrying them out, the video Green--but he didn’t see the video.” She thought out loud standing up.   
Looking at her standing there reminded him of how outspoken she was in bio, how aha moments animated her, had her pacing like she was right then, in his apartment. One of the things he loved about her. “What video?”  
“Green recorded a video and someone paid him for it. That video recorded 3 Floating girls... you and Michael walking them out...so maybe Wyatt didn’t know about What was on the video, but did he think we were--  
“I think Wyatt’s just a bigot who--”  
But why was his sister with my sister,” Liz thought out loud, “and if he knows aliens exist and need to be silenced, then why attack us? Then what else does he know?”  
It sounded like, for a minute, Liz was more focused on the murder of her sister, something that could never not keep them apart.   
“ I have to tell Michael and Isobel,” he said wondering where Liz was walking to next, “they have to know about this.”  
Max’s declaration snapped her back into the present. She looked at him, pecks exposed, wounded in the same place she was wounded. He could save her life, but he couldn’t heal himself. What was the science behind that? Maybe it was more than science. “Tell them what,” she asked, “about Wyatt?”  
“We gotta figure out what to do about him,” Max explained standing straight up, zipping up his sweatshirt, “what we can learn from them and whether or not we’ll be safe--  
“Safe,” Liz pushed back entering into his pathway towards the door,” you’re worried about if you’re safe, what about Rosa? What about the other girls?!”   
Max stood in place, wanting to move closer. Wanting to run away, the way she looked at him then, the way he hoped she would never look at him, frozen in time and frozen in feelings he couldn’t name. At least, not long enough to get her to stay.   
Liz drove home with tears in her eyes. Too much had been revealed that night. Isobel killed her sister, Rosa, and those girls. Michael and Max covered up her tracks. She stayed up through the night, weeping, weeping for all the ways she couldn’t be there for her sister. Crying for all the days she wished she said nicer things about her sister.   
When the sun came up in the morning, she remembered Max’s letter, the one he left on her car, the one Rosa kept from her, the one where he said she always stood where the sun came. As much as she wanted to know what inspired him to write that letter, to come for her whenever she called, she also didn’t know what to do with the story she was told.   
Fourteen cities, walking out on every boyfriend since losing Rosa, she was committing to staying this time. She would make the best of it. She would make the best of it and stay out of the Evans’s way. She would help her dad out and work as a researcher until she had the means to leave again. Until she had the full story she needed to make peace with the sister she could never recover. 

OoO  
Between her divorce and the realization she was behind Rosa’s murder, Max finds himself unable to shut out his sister. The day after Liz leaves, Michael and Isobel land on his doorstep explaining the events of the night before and how her HUSBAND left her things to sort out her feelings. After years of their marriage and Liz’s own reaction to the truth, Max drops the sermon about lying to her husband. As an employee of the state he can neither be trusted or put in harm’s way.   
Over time, he reaches out to his parents for support, once they have concocted a reason beyond their truth to necesitate Isobel living in a new place. It’s not as large as her house but, she needs to find something to do now that she’s no longer a DA’s life and she needs to figure out the life she will lead as a result of being on her own again.   
With no one else to care for, Michael begins to tell them about the work he’s done to learn more about their origins. He shows them the research inside his trailer and the lengths he’s gone to uncover more.   
Max can’t deny his curiosity about what Michael’s revealed to him. The curiosity, however, doesn’t keep him from silently grieving the pain they caused the girl he loved. He continues to find solace in Cameron, who remains a late night call or unannounced visit away. He works his best to return to the routine he had had before Liz arrived and awakened in him, however briefly, a hope at something more than surviving. 

 

OoOoO

Within weeks, Liz had established a routine. She spent her free time working for her dad at the Crashdown, insisting he take rest. Days blurred into each other. She was either in the lab or at the crashdown. She and Kyle’s recreational sex dwindles, as she can’t help but find herself resistant to a routine that may lead to something more. As safe as he feels, she has to come to terms with the ache of what she’s learned about Max, her sister, his sister, and the lies that haunt the streets of Roswell. As angry as she is, she knows she can’t tell Kyle as she still doesn’t know how his father knew about aliens and what that could mean for Max, Michael or Isobel. Hurting them won’t bring her sister back; vengeance did nothing for no one, so day by day she tried to find a way to make some sort of peace with it.   
Max’s absence from the Crashdown, Wild Pony, and other places she spent time with her friends helped.   
Her dad caught on that Max stopped coming by for the coffee he didn’t drink. Liz shrugged it off and said, “I told him I can watch you now, don’t worry about him,” she smiled through the pain, focusing on the safety and silence of the past weeks.  
“Aye, nina,” her dad sighed, “Kyle keeps coming by--”  
“We’re just friends, dad,” Liz defended.   
Her dad nodded her away, with the chamomile tea she insisted he drink. “Aha, claro.”  
She was doing better about telling him about everything else. They still had churro pancakes - sugar free with buckwheat flour - every Saturday night after closing. Whenever he asked about why she wasn’t dating, she would change the subject. She would hang out with Maria from time to time when she needed to unwind and numb the pain. 

By the end of the summer, the hospital threw a fundraiser for the research her team had been doing. Despite Kyle offering to go as friends, she insisted she wanted to go alone, conscientious of the politics behind a date. Her father insisted on not wanting to go because he’d feel out of place, despite her best efforts at trying to convince him.   
She spent most of the night talking to Kyle, who arrived with another colleague, and her research team colleagues until her supervisor asked her to talk to private donors about their progress. When, her supervisor asked her if she knew Isobel, who was standing across the room, Liz shrugged and said, “Vaguely,” trying to keep her composure in contrast to the tornado brewing in her gut. It didn’t help that Max had come with her, taking her breath away because of the way he looked in a black suit.   
IOnce Liz caught Max’s eye, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay long. She made her rounds after Isobel’s speech and then made her way gracefully out of the event. In the parking lot, however, after 3 months of not talking to each other, she couldn’t help but turn around when he called out her name, “Liz.”  
She paused in her tracks and he approached her. She regretted stopping but, try as she might, she couldn’t move forward. “I gotta go check on my dad,” she blurted out, trying to find a reason to tell herself to leave, “if I am away too long he works too hard and--  
“I just wanted to apologize,” he interjected as he took in how breathtaking she was in her dress, “I thought--  
“You thought, what, Max?!” She hissed not wanting to draw attention to either of them. “I haven’t forgotten. And with all that happened, I didn’t--I couldn’t put anyone else in harm’s way. That’s why I haven’t said anything,” Liz concluded swallowing her tears, “you saved my life. Twice,” she said trying to keep the cage around her heart intact, “so your secret’s safe with me.”   
Despite her angry speech, she appeared frozen in place eyes locked on Max even as he moved closer to her. With the silence looming between them, he couldn’t help but bring himself closer to her till they were only inches apart. Their closeness reminds him of their date, the date of which she has no memory.   
He was as close to her, then, slow dancing by his old jeep, providing them the ideal opportunity to kiss. That time, she was smiling, she was looking at him the way he couldn’t help looking at her.   
Now, he could see her blinking eyes trying to hold back tears. Despite wanting to with every fiber of his being, he doesn’t reach out to comfort her. The pain in those eyes awaken a yearning to comfort, but he can’t take her in his arms like he did that day in the desert, that night. There is too much hurt between them.   
Liz sees the same flicker of emotion, which she understood to be a mixture of love, guilt, and shame, that he had held in looking at her when she first got back after memorial day weekend earlier that year. She searches his eyes for something else, something that could help her move on, and the internal conflict of her bones and her guts are too much. Grateful that her own unease and emotional confusion gives her a reason to move, she hisses “Goodnight, Max,” to override the ache missing him begins to stir. 

Despite a rough night of sleep, she finds herself walking down to the Crashdown kitchen before her father the morning after the fundraiser. On grabbing utensils from the kitchen to begin setting places at diner benches, she stumbles a few paces back to find Max sitting at the far end of the counter.   
Max takes a beat, absorbing Liz clad in the Crashdown uniform that still makes his heart flutter and says, “I didn’t like how we left things. Not last night. Not,” Max pauses as she continues to set places around him, “not this summer. “  
“Liz,” her father called out, “con quien hablas?”   
“Nadie, Apa,” she answers as her hands empty of cutlery. Turning to Max, she whispers, “Not here.”  
She goes to grab the jacket she leaves in the kitchen. She removes her headband and confirms she has her keys in there. On returning to the diner area, she whispers, “Let’s go.”   
As she follows him out of the diner, she reminds herself that her gut and bones agree that he isn’t going to hurt her. She knows that, no matter what fucked up shit he’s done, he loves her. He claims to have loved her since high school.   
Max walks to his car and she waits on the passenger’s side for him to open her door. Once he unlocks it, she slides in without looking at him and begins to say, “So,” she takes a bit as he turns on the ignition, “what do you want, Max?”  
“I want to finish telling you what happened,” he answers as he pulls out of the parking space.   
“Let’s review,” she begins as they turn towards a main road, “Your sister killed my sister and two other girls; you and Michael covered it up because she somehow forgot what she did and because you thought that what happened to you would have been worse than death,” she then asked, “what am I missing?”  
Hearing her, he has to admit that she is still grieving her sister. The truth that he gave her that summer probably felt like losing Rosa all over again. The closest he has ever gotten to losing Isobel had been that night, but she was still alive.   
As he turns onto his road, he steals a glance of her, thinking about how to tell her about what she doesn’t know about them. Even if she doesn’t remember, all she’s learned may be triggering similar fears to the ones she had when he told her she wasn’t shot. “You’re missing,” he begins as he pulls into his driveway, “you’re missing what happened before…”  
As he stops the car and turns it off, she gets out pacing by the passenger’s side until he walks around towards his door. Then she asks, “what do you mean what happened before?”   
He had to take his time and he would need evidence. “Come in and I’ll explain,” he say opening his door.   
She follows him inside, noting that his house hasn’t changed much in the months since she was last there. A part of her wants to cry in his arms, let go of control. Another part remembered the lies he kept from her for over ten years. And that part, that part was doing its best to keep her together. She took off her jacket and laid it on his arm chair while he walked over to his couch.   
As much as he knew he had evidence, he also knew that he needed to take his time before he got there. He looked up at her angry, conflicted face   
“Do you remember what we were like before Rosa died?”  
She nodded saying, “lab partners in biology, friends for as long as I can remember. Real into Tolstoy, wanted to be a writer--and you became a cop to right the wrongs you did to my sister and those two girls.”  
“Yes,” he said getting up from his seat, “we were lab partners,” he walked towards his bookshelves. Reaching out for his yearbook, “We were friends,” he continues and as pulls out the yearbook. Walking back to his sofa, he said, “you also signed my yearbook.”  
On looking at their lab picture, she found her handwriting It’s Only the beginning, Love Liz. Looking up at him, following his eyes as he sat back down, she asked, “what was only the beginning?”  
He took a deep breath, “the way you left,” he said turning to her, “I couldn’t tell you what I had learned that morning, right before I found you with Grant Green…”  
“What did you learn?” Liz asked leaning forward towards him.   
Her closeness was quickening his heart, “my sister can, if she has strength, manipulate memories,” he paused, not knowing how she would react and not wanting her to leave, “she decided to change your memory of us.”  
“She, what?!” Liz cried out, “she changed her memory of us--  
“She knew how I felt about you...and how you used to feel about me,” he explained closing the yearbook, “and she thought it was just a crush. She didn’t know we…  
“That day,” he began, “we drove out to the desert for more than that bio project,” he said, “We drove out to the abandoned turquoise mines for a date,” he looked at her expression, one of disbelief and confusion. “We talked, we laughed, we danced,” he concluded, a smile organically spreading across his face, “and we kissed.”  
“We kissed?” She echoed, touching her lips.   
As her eyes met his, he nodded, “Yes,” he continued, “and we talked about seeing the world. You were supposed to come get me and, instead,” he bowed his head trying to hold back the tears, “you left. You left after burying Rosa without saying goo’bye.”   
“After she died,” Liz said, “however you may have made me smile when my mom left, I didn’t know if I could ever find a way to smile again--  
“I remember,” he interrupted, “I remember you telling me that, that you never knew how I--  
“How you what?”  
“How I feel--felt--about you,” he breathed out.  
Liz hid head face in her hands, “And, what—what did I feel for you, then?”  
“Then,” he said, “you kissed me back,” he could feel her eyes on him, so he looked up at her, “you said you wished you’d done it sooner.”  
Liz stood up, began pacing with the newfound knowledge. The person who admitted to keeping her from knowing how her sister died, after admitting he was in love with her for as long as he could remember, is now telling her that she may have felt something that his sister’s murderer kept from her in order to keep him. “Why are you telling me this? Why tell me something that doesn’t really change anything?!”   
“Because I--because I wanted you to know everything. I Dont want secrets--i don’t want lies between us, no matter what,” he continued, “I sucked at telling you the truth before, when you first got back. We went rounds around each other because of what I thought you knew, because of what I was afraid to tell you, and I didn’t want to keep anything else from you.”   
“That night,” Liz began, “at the drive-in movie, you said to leave the past in the past,” she looked into herself for a moment, confused about what feelings for him she had been guarding and the weight of the grief she wouldn’t let go, “why not leave this? Why not let me go on believing we could never have anything? Why tell me that we had started something? That all those times before the lies came to the surface, all those times I looked at you my bones were remembering something I could not--  
“What were they remembering, Liz?” Max asked not wanting to hear something that they couldn’t do anything about.   
“That it is more than safe I feel with you, Max,” she answered, “more than a spark.”  
Their eyes met and her skin quivered for the distance between them to disappear.   
“And I can’t,” she said, “I can’t do anything about that with all of this--with Rosa, with Isobel, and I can go now,” she said standing up, “take me home. Take me anywhere but here.”   
“Okay,” he said getting up. “I’ll take you.”  
As she grabbed her jacket, Max’s arms accidentally brushed up against her. All the weight she had been carrying with all the secrets came down on her. She buckled under knees, landing on the ground, holding herself up with her hands. He stood over her, wanting to console her but not wanting to provoke her. “Liz,” he said reaching his hand down to her head. She grabbed his legs and cried into his knees. “Liz,” he pleaded pulling her arms up, holding her as she steadied her feet.   
She fell into him and he, on auto-pilot wrapped his arms around her. “Liz, I’m so sorry.”  
She wrapped her arms around him, gripping him as tight as she could. She couldn’t talk to Kyle about the pain, as safe as he was there was always, always something missing. However perfect Diego had been, she couldn’t give her all to him, the secrets she learned revealed that much. She let him know as much within days of that summer night. The secrets between then and now, on top of all the work it took to keep it from her dad, she couldn’t have another person in her life who couldn’t know her truth.   
And no matter what Max had done for her, no matter what they had been through together, no matter how it felt to carry the weight of the secrets, being in his arms had provided the only source of comfort she had felt in months, years even. She buried herself deeper in his arms, digging her fingers in his sides, prompting him to hold her tighter. “Liz,” he whispered leaning his chin on her head, torn between the relief of her vulnerability and the responsibility he carried for most of it.   
She pulled her head from his chest, the air between them still warm with grief and yearning. Looking up at him, she found his eyes as watery as hers. In his eyes, she sees a hint of the conflicting emotions she used to feel about her sister’s behavior. Rosa caused a lot of trouble in ways and for reasons she couldn’t understand. Max’s sister, Isobel, did the same. What wouldn’t she have done for her sister? Wouldn’t she have buried her bodies, too? In looking in his eyes, she has to admit her answer was yes. “What are you thinking?” he asked tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.   
“Max,” she whispers because, for the first time, there are too many yet not enough words to explain what she’s thinking. She smooths her hand across his cheek, hoping to slow if not stop his tears. In unlocking her heart from its armor, she finds herself feeling all the Max has been trying to explain--the conflict loving her and his family produces; the ache of the time they unknowingly and possibly unwillingly spent apart; the guilt and shame for not knowing what had been the right decision. Holding his cheek is the only way she feels she can express what she’s thinking.   
He leans into her hand, not knowing what it means. He reaches his hand towards her face, still producing tears and rests it there as she presses his cheek to his hand. Kissing her forehead, he asks, “Liz?”.  
Liz lowers her eyes from looking into his, trying to find a way within her heart to move past the the grief towards something different, something better.   
Because she doesn’t say anything, he lowers his hands, unwraps his other arm from around her and approaches the door handle behind her.   
Liz lets go of her jacket and, with her other hand, lays a hand on his wrist, and sniffles, “Wait.”   
He lowers his hand from the knob. “Liz?” He says more like a question.   
Liz slides her fingers between his and says between continued sniffles, “You are carrying--you have been carrying a lot--and I wonder who you can talk about all of this.”   
As he allows his eyes to meet her, he finds her eyes looking at him differently than they had the night before. She is looking at him the way she did after he saved her life. Still, he doesn’t want to say anything because he doesn’t have the right to talk about his pain, which doesn’t compare to hers.   
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he says in response to her tenderness.   
Despite what he says, she doesn’t let him go.   
She pulls him to the couch where he was sitting. “But I do,” she says as she sits on the couch.   
He looks down at her. On meeting her pleading eyes again, he slowly lowers to sitting next to her.   
Once Max sits next to her, she grabs his other hand.   
“Liz,” he says leaning back into his couch, “We did what we needed to do to survive,” he says pulling her hands out of hers.   
“I know,” she says turning up her empty hands, “and as a human with a father I want to protect from authorities, I know I can’t imagine to begin to understand what your fear is like.”  
He shrugged resisting meeting her eyes again, he says “I can barely live with what I or we have done to you and your family. It’s not fair.”  
She sets a hand on his leg and says, “You’re right, it’s not fair,” adding, “But you do live with it Max,” she says, “I can’t imagine what that pain is like. Knowing what you lost; knowing that the person you loved disappeared from your life because of the choices the people you have spent your life protecting made without you.”   
“They were scared,” he said smoothing his hands against his legs and still finding one of hers there. “All we’ve ever had is each other.”  
“Yeah,” she says, “and that must be hard given everything you have learned and everything that you’ve had to face...by yourself”  
He shakes his head, uncomfortable with her efforts at showing compassion. “The lie in Isobel’s relationship tore it apart; Michael doesn’t get close to anyone,” he adds, “you shouldn’t be dragged into this..l”  
“No one’s dragging me,” she says grabbing his second hand again. “In all this time, the only time it doesn't hurt, the only time I can grieve or breathe about this is when I’m with you.”   
He allows himself to meet her eyes, and she’s looking at him like she looked at him when she shared the milkshake. “I know the feeling.”   
She runs her fingers through his hair, nodding in silent agreement.   
He presses his forehead towards her more, “with you here, I’m tempted to forget, forget all of it and just hold you.”  
She pulls him down with her and they lay in each other’s arms. She brushes her fingers through his hair, breathing him in. Over time, he falls asleep to the steady sound of her heartbeat.  
He wakes up with her huddled in his arms and wonders what he did to deserve such a moment of closeness w her.

 

This is my very first fan fic. Please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Liz slept over, what does that mean? Alternating between Max and Liz POV

Max doesn’t tell Isabel or Michael about the visit. When they ask why he didn’t come by, he talks about getting lost in a few books, not Liz’s tendrils under his eyes. Max works hard to block Isobel mind reading when she says his smile lingers longer than ever. As the weeks without hearing from Liz begin collecting, he resigns himself to never seeing her again. However small a town Roswell, New Mexico, is, Max thinks to himself, Liz has found a way to hide from him. He knows better than to go to the Crashdown. Despite numbers exchanged, there was no promise of anything.   
Liz finds herself dallying over his number most nights. She gives herself time; she remembers Rosa’s advice about the cage around her heart. She also remembers Rosa guarding Liz from the past suffering Rosa experienced. The day they switched prom dresses stuck in her mind, she teeters between wanting to text or call and wanting to focus on the life she has with her research, and her dad. She still visits Mimi, smoking weed less because of her job, but still getting drunk on the roof of the crashdown. They trade stories of travel, boys, and Mimi’s fortune telling all the while they keep Rosa alive with their shared memories.   
However, when Dia de los Muertos becomes less than a month away, she finds it necessary to reach out to him. With work dying down given a recent breakthrough, she finds less reasons to avoid Max and to hide behind the excuse of spending time with her dad. As time with Mimi and her dad soften the blow of losing Rosa, it becomes more clear to share some of that peace with Max.   
And, with Max, there were no secrets. Feeling like a girl in high school all over again, she quickly presses call when landing on Max’s number. “Max?” She says when it picks up after 3 rings.   
“Liz,” he asked in return.  
“Hi,” she then asked, “You hungry?”  
“A little,” he answered, confused, “why?”  
She stood up in the back of the diner, “because we,’’ she lied, “ had extra of your favorite and I wanted to see if you wanted any, I could come by...”  
“Sure,” he answered, “yeah, I could eat.”—  
She made the dish on the stove and used thermal storage to keep them while she cleaned up.  
She arrived at his front step, hands full. She called out for him as she tried to figure out what to put down.  
She set down the whiskey bottle to ring the bell.  
As he opened the door, he said, “Hey,” he said as he answered to find her hands full. he asked, “ can I help you with something?”  
She hands him the bag of food and follows him w the whiskey bottle. He set the food on the table and Liz followed with the whiskey bottle. “Thank you,” he said, “I didn’t realize you remembered my favorite.”  
“Well,” she said, “you were at the crashdown a lot and you tended to get the same thing. Stuff like that sticks about the regulars.”  
He nodded pulling out each container, taking a slight whiff of their smell because of how long it’d been since he’d been. “Thank you,” he said as he set the food out on a plate.   
“Thank you,” she said standing on the opposite side of his kitchen island, “I’m sorry I haven’t followed up sooner.,” she added, “we had to retry experiments for a while and BLANK’s baby had them out for a week and I had to help my dad more than usual.”  
His shoulders softened. This was a visit by choice.   
“I know we left things a little…”she trailed off thinking of the right way to say it, “up in the air.”  
He met her eyes afraid of what to say. He still hadn’t decided what that day meant. He needed her to let him know where he stood. “Yeah,” he said when she reached her hand across the island towards his.   
“Thank you for letting me in,” she said pulling her hand away and helping him transfer food to plates, “I know it’s not easy letting anyone into your world when if people knew the truth about you, they’d want you gone.”  
“You make it easy, Liz,” he said as their plate filled hands almost collided at the other end of the island.   
Liz looked up at his eyes and understood, if it wasn’t for the plates in their hands, she’d have leaned in to kiss him. They turned away from each other just as quickly, and Liz followed him to the dining table. “Provecho,” she said as they set down the food.   
“Oh, wait,” he interrupted, “let me get us something to drink.”  
She stood up and asked, “do you need any help with the glasses?”  
They were inches from each other again, a kiss imminent. Liz smoothed his wavy hair from his face. He leaned into her hand for a moment, but cut himself off and said, “No, I’m good,” he continued walking back to the kitchen, “you sit. You did all the cooking anyway.”  
As he grabbed the bottle and glasses, she looked at her food, wondering if Max would ever try to kiss her again. Falling asleep in his arms last time was one of the few things that she expected herself to do earlier that fall. They’d gone months without seeing each other, her grief being her only company. As both Mimi and her dad were trying to help her cope with all the feelings she ran away from, Max had gotten more and more important to address.  
Her observations had told her, he is struggling with the weight of his hurt. Part of his hurt had to do with her. And, while she wasn’t at fault, he wasn’t completely at fault either. His only fault, given the evidence in front of her, that he loved through secret keeping till he couldn’t hold them anymore. As much as these aliens were living afraid of anyone, he had trusted her. As the daughter of an undocumented person, she understood the kind of risk it took to build that trust. And, in their world, his alien identity would be treated for worse than hers.   
As she watched him set her glass in front of her, she said, “The last time I was here,” she waited till she could look him in the eyes before continuing, “you really did a lot for me.”  
“It was more than I ever thought I deserved,” he responded, “after all my family put you through, I--  
She put her hand over his lips, “I don’t wanna rehash that past,” she interrupted him, “I wanna focus on how to heal from it, and I think we need each other for that.”   
He kissed the fingertips against his lips in response, taking that hand in his and squeezing it in the empty corner between their plates. “What do you mean?” he asked,   
“We are the only ones that know all the detail of events that care about each other,” she began, her hand still in his, “and I feel like--lab rat jokes and scientist tendencies aside--the more we share what we know,” she explained in a way that prompted him to pull his hand back. So she added, “and how we feel, the less the pain will consume either of us.  
“Rosa used to say we needed armor to protect ourselves from getting hurt,” Liz explained, and reaching out for his hand again, “I don’t think I need armor with you.”  
“I don’t know what my powers could do,” he began, “when you questioned me before, with your machines, I lashed out at you and burned you--I ruined your machine--  
“And prompted the blackout,” she joked, “because I hurt you. And what I am saying is,” she said continued grabbing his hand again, “I want to figure out a way to learn about the past--and the present--with no experiments.” Folding her fingers through his hands, she said, “Just talking--  
“And eating,” he added.   
To show pulling his hand away wasn’t out of fear, he kissed the back of her hand before returning it to her so they could eat.


	3. What do you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergent; when Jenna calls for a scratch on her post, Max calls Liz to ask, "what do you want?" How does Liz respond?

When Jenna called on a Tuesday night after Thanksgiving, he didn't answer. Holidays tended to be hard for her, and she appreciated the way they blew off steam. He never asked why. That was a rule between them. Still, he felt he should talk to Liz about it.

While they hadn't done anything that first time they kissed, they also didn't set anything in stone. She wasn't calling every day and their visits didn't increase. She still came after closing the crashdown, but she never stayed long.

He was happy enough being near her, having someone he didn't have to protect know about all he carried. Still, he didn't want to lie to Jenna, after all, they'd been through and he needed to talk to Liz about it.

He sent her a text after he got ready for bed. "I got a question," he typed. "Call or text when free."

When she saw Max's text, she was still in the lab, finalizing a report on findings. She wrapped up her report quickly, she despidio de her boss, and as she walked out the building, put her headphones in her ear to call him back.

"Hey," he greeted her on answering the call.

"Hi, Max," she said as a smile spread across her lips. "Just leaving the office, babe, what's up?"

"Jenna reached out tonight, and I wanted to know if we should talk about it."

Liz stopped in her tracks. Her world that fall had slowly become research, crashdown, and Max. Lunches w Kyle were becoming less frequent and she had compartmentalized her life enough to not need to talk about anything. She knew what Jenna had been to Max and she knew what he was asking in between the lines.

"Can I come over?" She asked as she unlocked her car, "I feel like this is an in-person conversation."

"I'll see you soon," he answered, "your car door locked?"

"Yeah," she answered as she pressed the auto lock button, "it's locked."

"I'll leave the door open," he said, "just come in."

"Thanks, babe," she said as she heard him hang up. She pulled her headphones out of her ears and headed to Max's.

She arrived to find him shirtless, throwing out bottles from what appeared to be a party. She caught her heart in her chest, thinking about how long it had been and how far they never seemed to have time to go. She would need to do something about that. "Sorry," he said as she walked in, "Michael was over last night, had something on his mind but he didn't want to talk about it, so..."

"That's okay," she answered feeling the blood rush to her face as he moved around without really looking at her, "I just wish I dressed for it."

He turned to see she was wearing a sweater dress that hugged her in all the right places. Looking at the plunging neckline, he remembered he was shirtless, wearing sweats and walking around barefoot. "You look great," he breathed.

She felt her face get warmer, and touched her palm to it, trying to hide it.

He started walking over to her until he realized he hadn't washed his hands.

When he darted so quickly, Liz followed him into the kitchen.

She leaned on a counter within splash free distance, and said, "Thanks."

He dried his hands with a towel and took in more of her. Strands of her hair were swept across her face. She had low heels on that day and, despite bags under her eyes, her eyes were sparkling.

"What are you thinking?" She asked to break the long pause of silence.

"How beautiful you are," he answered leaning down to kiss her.

She set her hand on his cheek to keep him kissing her longer than he intended.

"You, too," she sighed as he pulled his face from hers.

"Sorry," he said making his way towards the front room, "I didn't know you'd be coming back from..."

"Work…" she answered, "but if you're comfortable…"

He lifted the corner of his lip and shook his head, grabbing a hoodie from the coat rack.

He sat down a safe distance from her, knowing that he'd have a hard time focusing with the view her sweater dress was providing.

As he covered his bare chest, she asked, "is everything with Jenna okay?"

"She's fine," he started,"I mean she wanted to know if she and I could..."

"Have recreational sex?"

"Yeah," he answered, conflicted about Liz having a name for it."We were never serious- the drive-in was an attempt at a date-

"Ah," Liz interjected remembering her spying. She couldn't help but laugh at herself.

"After that, we fooled around til," he paused trying to figure out when he stopped, "the fundraiser."

"Yeah," she said, "Kyle and I stopped the day before you told me everything. I couldn't tell him about Isobel and learning about how his dad helped Rosa...it was too complicated to just be recreational."

Max's pain of jealousy started affecting the lights.

He reached out for her hand, the lights going back to normal, "sorry," he began, "I don't really know how to do this."

"Do what?" She asked Putting her other hand over his.

"I never really," he began, "got serious with anyone," he continued as she inches closer to him, "and I don't what we're doing here."

She nodded and smoothing Back a lock of hair from his forehead, he leaned into her hand, a sign of surrender for him she was noticing and asked, "so how do you want to talk about Jenna? what are you worried about?"

"I also don't know what we are to have to tell you," he answered.

"Well," she said, "what do you want us to be?"

He moved over to the couch so there was only air between them. He smoothed a few loose strands behind her ear, "it's always been you, Liz," he said, "I don't want anyone else."

"Me either," she said kissing his forehead, then laying her head in his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he admitted, "I don't know if I can tell anyone."

"What do you mean?" She asked lifting her head.

"Jenna's been different for a while. And I don't trust my sister," he admitted, "or Kyle."

"I expect you'll never trust, Kyle," she laughed. "He was my first."

"Your first?" Max said.

"Boyfriend," she clarified, "and the first guy I had sex with."

"Oh," Max said.

"I get what you mean, though," she said, "I don't think my father would mind," adding, "he always liked you."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," she said snuggling closer, "he misses your no drinking coffee visits."

Max took in a deep breath. "I was just making sure he was safe."

"I never thanked you for that," she said folding her fingers through his.

"No need, Liz," he said leaning his head on hers. "I wanted to at least keep him safe."

She recalled his assault against Wyatt that June, after Wyatt came after his dad. She realized there were still mysteries to solve around what Wyatt knew about aliens. "How's Michael with all this..."

"Well," Max said, "we've been taking turns since the divorce...and we don't talk about our personal lives with her," he added," And he said Alex found something from our ship in his cabin—

"The Valenti cabin?" Liz asked sitting up and turning to face max.

He nodded.

"Yeah," he said as they switched gears, "something from a ship. We just don't know what it means."

"Wow, Max," Liz said putting her hand to her chest, "that's a lot. I mean I got Rosas file from kyles dads folder, So I guess that makes sense."

"It's sometimes really hard," he admitted, "It's hard to know there are people who want to find us. That they're so close..."

"I'm sorry," she said sitting up and turning to him, "no one has to know if you think it's gonna keep you safe..."

"I dunno," he admitted lowering his head, "I mean, it's just been me, Is, and Michael. Michael wants to go back; Isobel wants to make being here work…"

"And you?" she asked resting a hand on his knee.

"I never really thought about it," he answered, "I just know what I don't want to happen-I don't want to be captured or tested; I don't want to hurt people anymore; I don't want anyone else to suffer…" he trailed off smoothing his hands across his sweats and catching one of Liz's hands there…

"Aye," she said, "that's a lot to carry, Max."

"Yeah," he sighed, squeezing her hand, "and sometimes talking to you feels like I'm betraying them-

"Oh," she said pulling back, "then-

"And being with you just, "he corrected, "you give me balance. I just wish they understood that. I just wish they could find a way to get that."

She transitioned to sit across from him on his table. "Thank you," she said, "for trusting me. I know Michael and Is' think I will change my mind on protecting you, but I won't," she promised, "I know I told Kyle at first when I was angry about Rosa, I won't do that again. I know what's at stake."

"I know," Max sighed, "it's hard to trust him because of who he was to you; and..."Max trailed off unsure of how to word wanting to know more of what Kyle knew, "part of me wants to know what they know, and part of me doesn't want to know what they know because of what getting that information would risk. I think about Green, Long, and I just…"

"It's the first time I am looking at a struggle with privilege," she admitted, "I mean I'm a white passing Latina, pero se ve el nopal on my forehead."

He laughed and felt his shoulders relax.

Liz looked at her watch, an accessory based on a cell phone free lab, and said, "It's getting late, I should probably go," she took in a deep breath and asked, "did we talk about what you wanted to talk about? I can't remember."

"Uh," he thought back, "I think so."

As they walked to the door, she said, "I gotta stop working so hard."

"Two jobs is a lot," he agreed as she turned to face him.

"I just wish I had more time," she began grabbing his collar, "more time with you."

She pulled him down for a kiss, breaking his mouth open and leaning into him. He pulled her in as she grabbed the back of his head. He pinned her against the door as she moved her hands to his sweater's zipper. Before she could unzip all the way down, he broke away and said, "you sure you need to go?"

"No," She asked still holding on to the collar. "And yes," she sighed, kissing his collarbone before leaving.

 

OoOoO  
Smut scene coming soon! Let me know what you think :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she leaves Wild Pony, Liz receives a late night call from Max, what could be on his mind?

As she was walking out from hanging with Maria and Alex at the wild pony a few weeks later, he finally called. While he had let her know everything was okay, he didn't give her much in between that call and their day in the park. She assumed it was difficult and that, because of their agreement to not tell Michael and definitely not Isobel, he had to keep his distance. So when he called after hours, despite being a little buzzed, she picked up.

"Hey Liz," he said with a choke in his throat, "can you come over?"

"I'm a little tipsy," she answered, "so it's not safe for me to drive, Max."

"Oh," he said and thinking about what to do, he offered, "where can I pick you up?"

"At Saturn's Rings," she answered, "I'll stay on the phone with you until you get here."

He was there within a decent amount of time, leading her to believe he was already in town when he called. She hung up the phone as she rose from her seat to get in his car. On standing, she realized how exhausted she was and used her remaining strength to drop herself into Max's passenger seat. "Hey," she said leaning her head back, "can I sleep a little till we get to your place?"

"Yeah," he answered, "sorry for calling so late."

"It's okay," she breathed as her eyelids got heavy. She rested a hand on his knee as he turned the corner, "I missed you…"

She awoke laying on his bed, a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand next to her. Her feet felt light with no shoes on them. Like his living room, his walls were lined with shelves of books, titles she couldn't altogether read, still groggy. "Max?" she called out.

He strolled in still wearing the plaid shirt and jeans he had on when he picked her up. She sat up and said, "sorry I passed out.

"It's pretty late," he answered, "and I brought you in here because I left laundry on the couch."

She smiled up at him and then leaned towards the nightstand to pick up the glass of water. She chugged it as he sat on the other side of the bed. "Is everything okay?" she asked inching towards him,

He shrugged and then proceeded to tell her about Michael's discoveries of their homeworld, the decoding he had done and the possible existence of aliens like him on Earth. "He needed help following leads," Max explained, "and juggling that with work was really hard."

"Wow," Liz exclaimed blinking her eyes in response to their dryness, "How does that make you feel?"

"Confused," he answered, "Michael's so excited, because he may finally get a family, but…"

"But what?"

"I have a lot of questions," he admitted, "and I'm not sure if more of us is a good thing. I've known Michael and Is all my life and I trust them. I don't know what these few more people mean."

She smoothed her hand against his back, leaned the corner of her head on his shoulder. She was still waking up and didn't have the right words to say. She found that, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder, he relaxed a little bit.

"Thank you for being here," he said leaning over to kiss her forehead, "I missed you, too."

She wrapped her arms around him and he followed her lead to lay in bed, holding each other. She tucked her head into the crevice of his neck and began breathing him in. She then lowered her head to be over his heart and her arm over his middle, "Thank you for telling me, Max," she said, "I can't imagine that, with the little you know, learning there are others doesn't seem ideal."

"We were sent here as escapees," he said, "because of the violence going on at," he didn't know what to call the planet he came from so settled on, "home...that much Michael was able to uncover. And he was showing me there may be ways to send a beacon that we're okay, but…"

Liz was responding with more alertness given what calling could mean so she rested her chin on his chest to get a better read of what he was thinking.

"But I don't know that I want to," he said meeting her eyes, his heartbeat quickening under her chin. "If they weren't looking for us, then, why should we look for them?"

"Maybe they were waiting for the right time," Liz said looking at his Adam's apple, "till it was safe…"

He shrugged and when their eyes met said, "I like my life here, Liz. I don't want to ruin it."

"Who says you have to?" she asked as she slid the rest of herself onto him.

He held her steady gaze with his. Being in love and touched felt so much different than it had with Cameron. Having her, fully clothed, on top of him did more for him than the steam he blew with Cameron. He preferred this warmth and the life that loving her was giving him. Their connection was there, somehow coming through in spite of everything, and he didn't think he could love her more than he had before she left.

Even though he wasn't doing anything, her body was on fire because of how close they were, because of where they were. When he looked at her, he looked inside of her. His hunger for her could be satisfied by closeness, by touch, something she was still getting used to considering how, in retrospect, she had never felt this close to the other men she attempted to love. "Can I stay tonight?" she asked as she felt her body melting into his.

He nodded without moving, his eyes expressing a joy a smile couldn't capture.

"Can I get a change of clothes?" she asked recovering her body from his, sitting up and next to him.

"Sure," he answered removing himself from his bed, "what d'you need?"

"T-shirt," she answered, "and boxers…"

He nodded and made his way to the living room, where he left his clean clothes. Liz stood up, removed her jacket and then her socks, and then walked around his room taking in the books and mementos around them. He walked in and started putting clothes away as she skimmed his book titles. When they met by his dresser and the end of the bookshelves, he offered her a long-sleeve tee and a pair of freshly cleaned boxers. Lifting her head to him, she said, "Thanks," before kissing him, pressing into him, sober enough to know that she wasn't sober enough to take him then. "I'll go change," she offered, "which way?"

"Down the hall to your left," he said as he turned to show her the way from his room.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?" She called out.

"Under the sink," he shouted back as he took off his shirt and then his pants. He threw on the sweats and t-shirt he set out because, even though he doesn't wear anything to sleep, he didn't trust himself with skin to skin contact. Once he was changed and his shoes in his closet, he walked down the hall and waited outside the bathroom to throw his close in the machine. He leaned against the wall opposite the door, waiting for Liz to finish. When she stepped down, he took in her bare feet, exposed legs under his boxers and t-shirt, crowned by her washed face. Were it not for the clothes in his hands, he'd have scooped her up there. "I threw my clothes in the machine," she said breaking his concentration, "if that's okay."

"Yeah," he answered looking down at the clothes in his hands, "I'll add these, too."

She slid past him, taking in the style of his place. Books aside, his place was very New Mexico in a way she didn't expect. He had an adobe aesthetic she didn't expect from a bookworm police officer. After he started the machine and closed the bathroom door, she said, "This is not what I expected your place to look like."

He laughed, "Yeah, my family decorated for me," explaining that, "they were afraid the absence of color would feed my introvert habits."

"Hmm," she nodded, "even though I can afford it, I stay with my dad because," she paused, "I want to make sure he eats right, y'know?"

He nodded.

"Very warm," she said tugging at the bottom of his shirt, "very welcoming, too."

"You need anything," he asked as he shrunk the space between them.

She looked at the corner of the shirt she was holding and shook her head no. "Sleepy?"

"I wouldn't say that," he said tracing the edge of her hairline behind her ear.

She stuck her hands under his shirt and pulled him into her. She let him cradle her head up to kiss her as she raised his hands over his back, digging her nails into it as his tongue broke her lips open and he brought her face more deeply into his.

When they parted for air, she took off his shirt and began kissing his shoulders, his collarbone, lowering down his sternum until he lifted her up by his arms. She wrapped her legs, then her arms, around him as he took her lips into his. She could feel them moving as he carried her away from the wall. He lay her on his bed, a determined look in his eye as he broke her arms apart from behind his neck and pinned them above her head as she hugged her knees around him to compensate for the upper body control she surrendered to his hunger for her.

She felt his hardness against her, igniting her senses and her own yearning for this kind of intimacy. "Max," she breathed as he kissed down her shirt with no sign of releasing the grip on her hands. Rather, he brought them down with him as he reached the point in her middle where his boxers started. He nosed her way under her shirt, finally releasing the grip of her hands, which she then used to smooth her nails down his back, which prompted him to begin nibbling and kissing his way up her sternum. She arched her back towards him as his hands followed his nose, smoothing their way up her sides.

By the time her chest was exposed, in direct contact with his, she rose her arms so he could take off her shirt. As her head was released from the shirt's neck, she reached for his mouth and used his full hands to roll him over onto his back. Pressing against him, she started kissing him again as he reached his hands for her shorts' waist. She bit his bottom lip as she smoothed her hands against his chest.

He takes her hands from his chest, and gained the upper hand and turned her back on to the bed. He then slides off her boxers, noting how damp she already is. Hovering over her on his knees, he is able to take in her exposed and pulsing upper body. She takes the time he's distracted by her to reach for the top of his pants, "Can I?" she asked.

He nodded helping lower his pants.

She then palms his dick slowly wrapping her fingers around its girth and moves to bring it closer to her opening. He's so entranced by the touch, it takes him a moment to stop her as she is rubbing his head against her wet entrance. "Wait, How do you want it?" he asked, "what gets you off?"

"You," she said breathlessly and impatiently, "and keep," she said steadying his hand on top of her clit, "your fingers right here."

Not wanting to be rushed, he allowed his fingers to trace her labia up to her clit. She shuddered as he teased both her clit and her opening. He smirks asking, "How's that?"

She has no words just grunts "Uh huh," and she pushes onto him, as her opening tries to swallow his length whole. He lets her rock against him, making sure not to enter her fully, continuing to tease her clit and draw out those quiet moans that let him know he has her under his complete control.

Liz couldn't believe how expertly Max touched her. After months of waiting for this, it only took his teasing to undo her. Liz came with a shout, a whimper, and a shudder.

Now that he had her unwound, Max entered her with ease, moving in deep and slow strokes. He needed her mouth on his so he wrapped her legs around his waist to pull her upper body towards his. He positions her onto his lap and takes her bottom lip in between his. Liz, dying for friction, starts rocking against him. Max then moves his hands to gently gather Liz's hair in his fist, tugging to expose her neck. As he moves to nibble her neck, his right-hand moves to palm her ass and move himself deeper inside of her.

Liz's hard nipples against him keep his rhythm steady. She throws her head back to arch her body even more, which allows him to tease her nipples with his teeth and tongue. First, he flicks her nipple with the tip of his tongue, then, once it's hard, he sucks on it until he manages to fit more flesh in his mouth, and causes her to yelp in surprised pleasure. Once she yelps, he lifts his mouth to her other breast in earnest effort to keep her moaning his name that way.

With his mouth on her breasts, Liz was overcome by his generosity and willingness to be in control. Her fears that he would be shy or inhibited out of care for the love he had for her have been, thankfully superseded by his hunger to touch her, taste her and please her. Liz felt overwhelmingly wanted and, unable to contain her joy, she clenched around him, burying her face in his neck, as she came again.

Feeling her warm tears against his shoulder, he holds her closer to him and slows his movements, deepening his strokes, as he comes inside her.

As they come down from their high, arms wrapped tightly around one another, deeply breathing in the scent of the other, Liz slowly lifts her head to press her lips against Max's. As they kiss, Max gently extracts himself from Liz and maneuvers them so that they're both laying on the bed. She tucks himself into the nape of his neck again once they're lying side by side. Max holds back the temptation to tell her he loves her, as she falls into a deep sleep inside his arms.

OoO

In the hours the sun is rising, she awakens to find him holding her hand over his heart and their right legs intertwined. She buries her nose in the nape of his neck, taking in the aroma of musk, cum, and morning that he exuded. She is grateful she has the day off and hopes he has the time to stay in bed with her. He feels like home to her, the sensation of their skin next to each other as familiar as churro pancakes.

Author's note - any feedback would be much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This remains canon divergent from 1x05; my first publicly published smut scene, please review?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Liz can talk to her dad about Max, Max still feels unsure he can share the news with Isabel.

Liz is grateful she can talk to her dad, even about why Max can't tell his sister or best friend. He was sympathetic to both Max's necessity and to Liz's conflicted frustration and joy. He was also getting better, and developing good habits. His staff supported them, making her less necessary. Having more time on her hands had her at work longer, or at Wild Pony with Mimi and Alex, or, when his schedule permitted, with Max.

Max finds it hard to keep Liz a secret from Isobel. On learning on the potential existence of others like them, he wants to avoid looking for trouble. Talking about finding them or what they mean brings up a sense of protectiveness over humans that Michael suspects and Liz discourages. While he appreciates Liz's desire that he build a community with people like him, and Michael feels other aliens can help him and by extension, them, a sense of belonging, Max wants to remain cautious. Between Isobel's mind warps and the drifter he may have been guided to kill as a young teen, he didn't want to be connected to people who hurt people. In the midst of these conversations, he has to catch himself from letting his love for slip Liz from the conversation.

Leaving the Evan's Christmas dinner, Michael asked, "So, where are we gonna spend New Year's?"

"I actually have to work," he said, "Cam has plans, so I figured I'd just take it."

Michael shrugged and turned to Max's sister, "Is?"

She shook her head, "we can hang out here…"

"Never mind," he answered with a huff, "I'll see you on the other side," getting into his truck.

Isobel looked at Max confused, "really?"

Max nodded.

"I thought you two would-"

"Nope," he said putting his hands in his pockets, stopping at the end of the walk away.

"I'm sorry, Max," Isobel said, resting her arm on his shoulder.

He pulled it back as quickly as she laid her hand on it, "It's fine-better this way."

Isobel frowned before turning to her car.

Although they were talking, he didn't want to talk about his personal life with her, because he had to lie about and hide Liz and because she wasn't supporting Michael's need to learn more. Liz wanted to hold on to a lie than live in any truth, and that bothered him. He arrived home, wishing Liz was there, waiting for him in his bed.

When he reached for his phone in the morning, he found a text from Liz, saying, I miss you. He smiled at the thought of her laying in bed thinking of him as he was thinking of her.

He threw on his flannel pants to protect himself from the morning chill that he often found coming in from his closed window. As he was making coffee, he saw Liz's bent over herself behind his door. 

Liz was adjusting one of the bags over her shoulder when Max opened the door. "Liz?"

"Hi," she said standing up and brushing her hair up against him.

"Hi," he laughed, reaching down for her lips.

He let her in and took in that she was holding in her hands: fresh ingredients.

"You can put those in the kitchen," she said unwrapping her neck and unbuttoning her wool court.

"I was missing you, too," he said as he stored the vegetables, "what inspired you to surprise me?"

As he walked out to the living room, he found her, arms up, middle growing bear as she was pulling her shirt over her head.

As her face came out of her shirt's neck, Max put his hands over her hips and threw her over his shoulder.

When he threw her down on the bed, he got his knees on the floor, slipped her off her pantie with his teeth and kissed up her legs.

She giggled at the touch of his beard against her inner thighs, as he pulled her pussy to his face and began tracing her labia with his tongue. He held the top of her pussy lips open and she dug her fingers in his hair to help him maneuver his tongue inside of her.

With his tongue, he traced her opening, her inner vaginal lip. He used one arm to hold her leg open more widely. He used the hand of the other to draw circles up to the tip of the clit.

Liz shuddered, tipped her head back, as he devoured her juicy pussy with intense concentration. She pulled his tongue closer, grabbed his ears as she toes curled from the intensity of his tongue on her clit.

By the time his tongue stuck to twirling in her opening, she started yelling, "Oooh," between gasps, "Oooh, Max!"

By the time she yelled, "Max!" for the tenth time, he stood up over her.

She slid her way up his bed, and held her arms out for him, rocking her hips towards his.

As he lowered himself, he used his dick to tease her hole until she sat up to bring her hole closer to his penis. He pulled her up, walked to pin her against a wall and pushed himself into her as she dug her nails into his back.

Bracing herself for where his rocket takes her next, she allows his hips to guide hers until their lust for each other explodes.

He then takes her to his bed, entering in behind her. He smooths her hair away from her face, as he takes in her beautiful dark brown eyes.

OoOoO

He woke up to the sound of a car driving up to his house. He slid from under Liz to check out the scene. He saw his sister's car by the back door, so he rushed to grab Liz's clothes, bag, and shoes from the table and floor where she left them. When he entered his room, he found Liz still sleeping and set her stuff in a corner as he walked out to meet Is, who was letting herself into his house.

"Hey," he said as she unwrapped her scarf.

"I didn't like the way we left things," she said, "last night. I want to fix the distance between us."

He could feel her trying to read his mind, so he blocked her.

"Trying our connection to get an answer different from the one we've discussed isn't going to work," he answered crossing his arms and trying to make it clear he didn't want her to stay.

"I'm so sorry," she pleaded, "about Liz. How many more times do I have to apologize?"

"It's not about, Liz," he blurted out, "it's about how controlling you are."

"Max-"

"We're all here," he interrupted, "we're not leaving you. What else do you want?"

She put her hand to her heart, tears welling up in her eyes. "Max-

"Give. Me. Time," he said sighing, "I just need time."

She tried to say something else but left the potential of a response in the air behind her.

He stood in his living room, waiting for her car to shrink as it grew more distant in the house.

When he returned to his room, Liz was putting on one of his long t-shirts, "Sorry about that," he said as he sat down on his bed.

She walked up to him, and resting her arms on her shoulders said, "I'm sorry, Max."

"She thinks it's easy to make it about you," he says looking up at his girlfriend's face, "but it's about what she doesn't acknowledge us doing for her."

He pulled her in close and buried his face in her stomach.

She smoothed his hair, thinking through how isolated Isobel must feel not knowing what was going on in her brother's life. "What's the worst that would happen if she learned about us?" Liz asks lifting Max's face up to meet her eyes.

"I dunno," Max said, "every time I think of telling her, she freaks out over another new thing," he sighed. "Michael really needs us to be supportive of him and she wants to still live a lie…"

She crawled over him, back into bed. She then wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He rested his hand on her forearms, "I...thank you," he whispered.

"It must be hard," she said behind his ear, "dividing your life like this."

He turned towards her, releasing her grip and said, "Not really," he added, "I already told Michael."

She blushed, "How'd he take it?"

"You haven't said anything for months, so he figures you're not going to anytime soon," he answered taking her hands in his. "I also feel like he's got someone he doesn't want to tell us about," adding, "he talks differently about what he's found…"

"Hmm," Liz said looking down at their hands folded into each other, "I do hope he finds someone who loves him," she added looking up at Max's eyes, "all of him."

"Me, too," he echoed as she inched towards him.

She kissed his forehead before getting out of bed over him, wanting to give him to process that brief yet difficult conversation. She had come as a surprise because of how long it had been since they had really seen each other. She wanted to take him away and is glad she didn't because of the interaction they had in the morning. She putzed around in the kitchen trying to figure out what she needed to cook for him.

Max made his bed and put her clothes in a drawer he had emptied for her. He hung her coat and scarf up in his closet before he went out to find her getting ready to cook in the kitchen. "Whatcha doing?" He asked as he approached her small frame at the counter. 

"I was going to make you-

"No, " he interrupted with a sly grin, taking her in his arms, "my turn to cook with you…"

"With me?"

He nodded. "I want you to teach me to cook whatever you were going to make me."

She walked him through the dish, ingredient by ingredient. He was pretty good with a knife and provided suggestions for both mixing and food order. Throughout the process, he was always looking for a way to touch her, whether having his hand brush against hers or walking around her and having their arms share the same space. When he started moving from the counter to the sink, he would set his hand on the small of her back instead of saying excuse me. She loved all the ways he needed to touch her when she was around.

"I'll let you finish," she said kissing his shoulders before going around to the other side of the counter. She watched him flip the pancakes and set them in a plate. She hadn't told him she loved him yet. While she was sure she did, she was waiting for a time when it was just about them. That's why she had come over that morning. Is's interruption of their day, though, distracted her from resetting the mood.

"What are you thinking?" he asked as he turned off the stove.

"Wanting to pause time," she said redirecting her eyes to his, "I just wish we had more time, all the time."

He felt his face warm, "Me, too," he said lifting a corner of his lip and bringing the serving plates on the counter, "where do you wanna eat?"

"Table's fine," she answers. "Do you need-

"I'll bring it all to you," he interrupts, "have a seat."

He set up her plate, before making his own, sitting down opposite her when their plates were done with adequate drinks. He waited to take a bite until she did.

"Thank you, Max," she said between bites.

"I loved waking up with you in my house," he said.

She paused from eating, squeezed his hand and smiled at him, saying, "I wish I could be here more…"

"You do?"

She nodded as she continued eating. Not ready to tell him she loved him, or that she wanted a set of keys. With Isobel able to pop in whenever she wanted, she didn't want to put him in a compromising position. She also didn't know how to say she was in love with someone who already knew that they both knew he felt about her.

He followed suit to eat in silence, wondering if he had said something wrong. They had, despite a lot, continued to grow close over the past few slowed his eating, trying to thinking of something to break the silence that appeared awkward.

By the third time he opened and closed his mouth with what appeared to be the effort of trying to say something, she started talking about the events of the morning. "Whenever we're together, you just find any which way to touch me, to be closer to me than just being in the same room permits. I love that closeness," she says, "it helps me feel at home, like no matter what's happening or what's going on, I belong with you. I am yours."

He squeezed her hand, tilted his head to the side, heart swelling. "Why'd you come today?" he asked.

"Because I missed you," she answered squeezing his hand right back. She turned her head towards the table. "As mystery-solving, and research continue," she added, smiling, "I wanted us to have a normal, slow day together."

They finished eating, Max insisted on washing the dishes. He rinsed them before putting them in his dishwasher. "Sometimes," he said, "I wonder if normal is even possible…"

She rested her head on the kitchen counter, stretching her back, and contemplated his movement across the kitchen, the way his back twisted as he bent to load the dishwasher and then untwist as he stood up, rinsed the sink and turned towards her, leaving the dish rag behind him. 

He crossed his arms, smiled at her, unsure of what to say.

"I like watching you move," she noted breaking her silence, "I know how much has been going on," she said standing up, "how tempting it is to not steal normal moments."

He came around to take her in his arms, "It's not that tempting," he said, "with you here."

She smoothed her hands against his arms. "I know," she said as her hands reached his shoulders, "what would you be doing if I wasn't here?"

"Reading, he said, smoothing a few hairs from her forehead.

"You don't write anymore," she asked pulling her arms away from him.

"Not really," he said as she walked to the coffee table, "I dunno what to write about …"

"Where's my stuff?" She asked not spotting it anywhere on the sofa.

"Oh," he said walking away from the counter, "I put it away. I hung up your coat, and…"

She followed him to his bedroom, "I gave you a drawer," he said opening it to reveal her folded clothes, "and I put your coat and purse in my closet," he said opening it and revealing her purse and coat hanging on the door.

She smoothed a hand against her coat and purse and then looked at Max's eyes, "you gave me a drawer?"

He nodded, smoothing a strand of hair from her face, whispering, "Yeah."

She pulled him close and kissed him. When she pulled away, she caught herself starting to tell him that she loved him. She held back, however, wanting more time.

"I have something for you," she said pulling out a wrapped box from her purse.

"I didn't get you anything," he said.

"This morning," she chuckled, "was plenty…"

"So," he began as he unwrapped the box, "will I get something every time?"

"Maybe" she answered as he pulled out his gift.

She had gotten him a BLANK leatherbound unlined journal. After he finished thumbing the pages, he found she had written on the title page. Next to "This belongs to" she wrote "Max Evans," signing, "with all my love, Liz."

"Liz?"

"I do," she said as he laid his new journal down, "I do love you, Max."

"I love you, too," he answered in a choked whisper. He pulled her up into a kiss that he didn't want to end. She slid her tongue into his open mouth, licking his tongue in ways that made him pull her deeper into his mouth. Still, she didn't wrap her legs around him, so he set her down.

"I am so in love with you, Max," she said lowering her hands to his chest, "and I just hope you find a way to write again."

They spent the afternoon brainstorming about things to write about. She fell asleep to the sound of his pen against paper.


End file.
